


Some Things Are Worth More Than Duty

by gwynhefar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Road Trips, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwynhefar/pseuds/gwynhefar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil wants to take Clint on a road trip to the beach for their anniversary.  Fury has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Are Worth More Than Duty

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot, unconnected to my other 'verses. And yes, I *am* working on the others :) BTW, I think this story is practically begging for some fan art of Clint and Phil posing at South of the Border. As I can barely draw stick figures, any artists out there are more than welcome to try their hand. I'd love to see the results.

**“** Hey, we’re gonna stop at South of the Border, right?  I mean, I know it’s cheesy but you can’t do a roadtrip down the east coast without buying a cheesy Indian figurine, right?  Please?”  
  
Phil grins at the voicemail Clint has left on his phone.  A few weeks ago Phil had been telling Clint of his childhood summer vacations to Florida - the road trip down the east coast, the rented beach house, the ocean and the waves. Clint had remarked wistfully that he had never been to a beach just to go to the beach - most of the coastlines he’d seen were in the dark of the night on various operations.    
  
And then Phil had had an idea.  He’d arranged for them both to have leave the week of their first anniversary and started planning a road trip to Clearwater Beach.  When he’d told Clint, the archer’s eyes had lit up, even as he got that slight look of awe on his face that said he still couldn’t believe he deserved anything good.  Phil has made it his mission to give Clint good things until that look goes away.  
  
Phil is about to text a response to Clint when Maria Hill pokes her head in at his door.  Phil gets a tight feeling in his chest as she says “Fury wants to see you.”  
  
“His office?” Phil asks, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
“Yes,” Hill answers as she disappears from the doorframe, message delivered.    
  
It’s late in the afternoon the last day before Phil’s vacation.  There are very few things that Fury could want to talk to him about.  The most likely is that he is about to get his leave cancelled and be sent on a mission.  Just imagining Clint’s disappointed face makes Phil’s heart clench.  
  
As he walks down the hall to Fury’s office Phil allows himself a little mental childishness.  It’s not  _ fair. _  Phil knows this anniversary is particularly important to Clint because he had never expected to have one.  After a lifetime being of being told that he is difficult, a nuisance, a failure, Clint has a hard time believing that anyone would be willing to put up with him long enough to make it to an anniversary.  He spent the first three months of their relationship waiting for the other shoe to fall, waiting for Phil to simply get tired of him or to decide that he didn’t really mean the confession spoken in the heat of the moment. Nothing Phil could say had eased Clint’s anxiety, so Phil just clung to him all the more, remembering vividly the emptiness and heartbreak of those three days he’d thought Clint dead.  
  
Now, almost a year in, Clint has stopped expecting Phil to get tired of him, but Phil can still tell he expects himself to mess it up somehow.  Phil needs this trip.  He needs to hold Clint close and celebrate the fact that they’ve made it a full year without either of them dying.  
  


 

When Phil reaches Fury’s door he knocks briskly, entering when bidden.  Fury is sitting behind his desk, scanning the documents in a folder in his hand, pointedly not looking Phil in the eye.  Phil’s dread multiplies.    


“Phil,” Fury greets and Phil shudders inwardly.  Use of his first name means that Fury is trying to cushion the blow.  “I know you’re supposed to be on leave next week and I’m sorry, but you’re the only one I can trust to handle this,” Fury says, and hands over the folder.  
  
Phil takes it without comment and opens it up, scanning the first page as Fury continues his overview.  He gestures to the photo clipped on the front of the folder.  
  
“We picked them up during a raid at a Hydra base two days ago,” he says, and Phil raises an eyebrow at the picture, which appears to show four domestic pigs wandering around one of the quarantine chambers in Medical.    
  
“Pigs, sir?” he asks.  Fury sighs.  
  
“We’ve been able to determine that those pigs used to be four of Hydra’s best scientists.  They were developing some sort of new weapon at the base.  Somehow Hydra got wind of our raid before we got there and by the time we’d secured the base, they were all that was left - the prototypes were missing, the files shredded, the computers destroyed.  We need to know what they know, Coulson,” Fury said, templing his fingers under his chin.  “We’ve got some of our best people working on a way to change them back, but I need someone to manage the project and make sure that nothing happens to those pigs.”  
  
Phil grits his teeth.  Fury wants to cancel his vacation, to take him away from Clint for a bout of  _pig sitting?_  “Permission to go review this information, sir?” he asks, doing his best to sound pleasant.  
  
“Permission granted,” Fury says with a satisfied look on his face.  Phil turns toward the door.  “And Phil?” Fury calls as he opens it.  “I am sorry,” he says, sounding genuinely remorseful.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Phil replies, well aware that Fury can sound anyway he wants at any time.  
  


 

When Phil gets back to his office there is another voicemail on his phone.  Phil sighs in frustration as he listens.  
  
“Hey!” comes Clint’s chipper voice, “I’m gonna go down to the grocery store in a little while to pick up some snacks for the road.  Of course I’m gonna get you a big bag of your donuts, but do you want anything else?  We’re gonna hit a grocery store when we get there, right?  Get the food for the week then?  Let me know if there’s anything you want me to pick up today.  Love you!”  
  
Phil collapses in his chair and puts his head in his hands.  He should call Clint, let him know.  But after hearing the excitement in his lover’s voice he just can’t bring himself to destroy it yet.  He’ll do it when he gets home tonight, when he can hold Clint and make his apologies in person.  
  
Phil sets the folder down to study his new assignment.  It says something about this job, he thinks, that enemy scientists turned into pigs is not the strangest thing he’s seen this year.  The pigs are apparently healthy and well cared for.  They don’t display any signs of intelligence beyond what would be expected from pigs, who are already smart animals.    
  
The more Phil reads the more frustrated he becomes.  The SHIELD scientists seem to have it under control.  There are a few proposals for solutions that have the potential to damage the pigs if unsuccessful, but the dangers are duly mentioned and the proposals ranked low accordingly.    
  
Yes, they need someone to keep an eye on the scientists and to make the ultimate decision on what tests to run and what treatments to initiate, to ensure the security of the pigs and to be prepared to take over when (or if) the Hydra scientists revert to human. But there is nothing here that specifically requires any of Phil’s unique abilities.  
  
Phil is dangerously close to something resembling insubordination when his phone beeps again, indicating another voicemail.  He picks it up and listens.  
  
“Hey,” comes Clint’s voice, softer and more hesitant than his previous exuberant messages.  “I’m just checking in, see if everything’s ok.  I figure you’re probably busy with paperwork and tying up loose ends and all, which is why I’ve been calling directly to voicemail, but I haven’t heard back so I thought I’d try one more time.  I’m just . . . I’m gonna go to the store, ok?  If we need anything else we can always stop on our way out, I guess.  So, yeah, anyway.  See you when you get home?  Love you.  Bye.”  
  
Phil closes his eyes imagining the face that would have gone along with that voice, worried and hesitant in anticipation of disappointment.  Mind made up, Phil scoops up the folder and heads for Fury’s office.  
  


 

Fury calls him in when he knocks and starts talking without even looking up.  “I’m sure you can see why this project is so sensitive.  I can take you down to Medical now to meet Dr. Saunders, he’s in charge of the testing and --”  
  
“No,” Phil says firmly, placing the folder down on Fury’s desk.  
  
“Oh, did you have more questions?  Was there someone else you wanted to meet with first?”  Fury’s eyes are narrowed even as his tone is light, and Phil knows it’s a warning but he doesn’t care.  
  
“No, I don’t have any questions because I’m not taking the project,” Phil states firmly.  “There’s nothing in there that Sitwell or Hill or even Blake couldn’t do.”  
  
“Coulson, I really need my best man on this . . .” Fury starts.  
  
“Then get a new best man,” Phil says mildly.  “You need to delegate more widely anyway.  I’m taking my partner away for our anniversary and that’s final.  I don’t ask for much, Nick, and in this case I’m not even asking, I’m telling.  We’ll be back a week from Monday and no sooner and we’re turning our phones off so don’t bother calling.  The world can live without us for ten days.”  
  
“Coulson . . .” Fury says with a resigned sigh.  
  
“I’ll see you next Monday, sir,” Phil says and leaves.  

 

 

  
Phil gets home to find Clint in the kitchen, packing up the cooler.  He looks up when he hears Phil come in, but his smile is tentative.  
  
“You’re home early,” Clint remarks, tone carefully neutral, “You didn’t call.”    
  
Clint pushes the cooler away and turns to face Phil, leaning against the counter, arms wrapped defensively around his stomach.  “You’ve been given an assignment, haven’t you?” he asks, trying and failing to hide his disappointment, and the grim resignation on his face breaks Phil’s heart.  
  
Phil shakes his head, smiling softly.  “I took care of it already.  As long as I have my donuts I’m good for the road.  And yes, of course we can stop at South of the Border.”  
  
Clint’s answering smile is blinding.


End file.
